PBJ and tequila

It’s the night before market day in the village. Most of the stuff I bought last week is still here, uncooked, some the worse for wear, thanks to the regular hours long blackouts courtesy of gphell. I just haven’t been able. Started the needs assessment today, 2 interviews; 48 more to go and I’m already depressed. There’s no community for lesbian and bisexual women in Guyana. Sure, there is an organization or two and people have friends and acquaintances, some enemies, but there is no big C Community. I’ve known that for several years now but it still depresses the shit out of me. Because I couldn’t change that sad fact. Because I gave up trying to. Because I still need it. The darkness gnaws steadily at my heart and soul and the abyss is always there, growing and snatching at my toes. I will see my ex tomorrow; someone who was once the world to me. Now we barely acknowledge each other’s existence. This has been a year of brokenness; relationships, friendships and the will to fix. Mending one’s self seems to suck all the energy. I aint able cook. PBJ seems doable and appealing. After all, there are 2 or 3 different kinds of jelly to choose from. And tequila. OM

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